


Vindication of a Blood Stained Blade

by Anonymous



Series: mcyt fics [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Inspired by art!, Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Is A Sword, Technoblade and TommyInnit's Odd and Complicated Friendship, but he gets so many hot hot girls /j, hes an orphan, lowkey realistic minecraft?, theyre brothers ur honor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tommy comes into possession of a very,verycursed sword. Absolutely no one is pleased- especially not the sword himself.Or; Technoblade is a literal blade, and Tommy is but a poor orphan child.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: mcyt fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189793
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90
Collections: Anonymous





	Vindication of a Blood Stained Blade

**Author's Note:**

> this idea is from [@stephart09 on twitter](https://twitter.com/stephart09?s=20) and specifically [this tweet!](https://twitter.com/stephart09/status/1360069453841461250?s=20) please go check out her awesome art!!!

There are, admittedly, a lot of things that Tommy  _ is. _

He’s an orphan, he’s tall as fuck, he is (very begrudgingly admitted) only a  _ tad _ bit lonely, barely.

He is loud and brash and expletive, and he's exceptionally popular with the ladies. He is technically homeless- because fuck the orphanage- and he is fond of that one cow that grazes in a nearby pasture and moos when he walks by.

Tommy is explosive and cocky and doesn't tend to think before he does, well, anything.

And so what Tommy  _ isn't, _ is a fucking chicken. 

Never let it be said that Thomas Innit is a coward; and if those words are ever uttered, then the bitch who said ‘em better get ready to face that claim with his utterly poor self control.

Tommy has never backed down from any challenge in his life- he just doesn't allow that type of pussy behavior, simple as that. And the entire village and their cats know it.

Tommy Innit, the boy who will do any ridiculous task, just to prove everyone else wrong. The kid who got chased by a bull across a field for a silver coin. The idiot who got himself stuck in the bottom of the town well while retrieving a fallen necklace, because everyone said it was impossible to do.

Tommy Innit, the boy who enters cursed forests to find an even more cursed sword, because the asshole village boys triple-dog-dared him to do it.

And Tommy isn't a coward, so, there really wasn't any other option, right?

That's what he ends up telling himself as he crouches in the woods, daylight barely breaking through the thick canopy. Green and brown foliage is all he can see, and he's gotten twisted and turned around in a clearing about five times now.

“Stupid fucking trees,” he mutters, kicking a fallen branch into a bush. He hates these trees, with their looming height and creeping limbs. He shivers, his imagination bringing forth the image of them entangling him in their gnarly bark.

Something light brushes against his shoulder. He lets out a (definitely not high pitched and terrified) squeak, jumping forwards and  _ away _ and pulling out his very trusty Large Stick that he found at the beginning of his journey.

He holds it like a sword in front of himself, hands shaking and eyes darting around for any possible perpetrator.

A small rodent chirps and skittles away from a high branch, dropping more twigs and leaves as it runs away.

Well, fuck. Tommy sighs in relief, shoulders sagging and the stick in his hands lowering to the ground.

Stupid dumbass animals. Don't they know he's not scared of them? He puffs out his chest, steadily ignoring his sweaty palms. Tommy Innit isn't about to be bested by some squirrel or nothin’.

He continues on his (admittedly very freeform) path, on a more heightened alert for anything out of the ordinary. Everyone in the village says that this forest is cursed, but should he really believe them? They said that the house on the hill was haunted, but when he went to check it out a while back, he found that it was really just some old hermit who hated visitors, so. They aren't  _ really _ the best for credibility.

They probably just heard some spooky owl at night and thought it’d make a great ghost story to keep dumb kids out of the forest. Well. He’ll admit that the rumors had kept most kids out of the forest, but Tommy isn't just  _ most. _ He’s a hell of a lot braver  _ and _ better overall than all of those wimpy village kids, who go and cry to their mamas when they get so much as a scrape. He's built different, with his awesome muscles and charming face.

And that's why it's him in the so-called “cursed” forest and not anyone else, because he's the only one brave enough to face it. (The others might call him the only one dumb enough, but hey, what do they know?)

He lifts a low hanging branch and steps forward, whistling a skippy tune as he walks. There's nothing to be afraid of in this forest, he realizes. ‘S just a bunch of trees and small critters, no curses or monsters or none of that shit the village elder told him about. Crazy old bitch.

He scoffs. Tommy really is the bravest, and therefore best, kid in the village. He can't wait to find his way outta this stupid forest and then go back to brag to the others. He grins, already thinking about all the praise and awe he’ll receive once he returns, everyone bowing down to his brave, mighty presence.

He turns around a rather large and old tree, moss hanging from its branches, and he gets the very slightest, fickle feeling of  _ something. _ He startles, unused to even the smallest bit of- whatever that was, and then he trips and falls on his face.

Tommy groans, propping himself up onto his knees with his hands, already forgetting about what he'd just felt.

“What the fuck!” He shouts, wiping the dirt off of his face in annoyance. The hell did he even trip over? Last he'd checked, there wasn't anything but dirt on the ground-

His breath catches, and he enters a coughing fit, covering his mouth as he tries to breathe. “What the fuck,” he whispers, more in awe this time, as he looks upon the scabbard he tripped over.

It's made of dull leather, and maybe he would've been convinced it was just a regular sword if the hilt wasn't made up of literal  _ blackstone. _

“Holy shit,” Tommy whispers, and he reaches out, almost hesitantly, but Tommy has never been hesitant about anything in his life, so he grasps the grip, strong and sturdy in his hands, and sits in awe, mouth agape at the-  _ power- _ that he feels thrumming under his hand. Holy shit.

Maybe all that cursed forest stuff is bullshit, but the cursed sword? Damn, that might have been a bit of the truth, if the way it fucking  _ shimmered _ is any proof.

He wonders what material the blade is made out of, iron?  _ Diamond? _ Bouncing on his knees, grinning wide, Tommy almost rips off the scabbard, excitement palpable in the quiet woods. 

The doesn't even realize he's let out a gasp until the scabbard drops from his grip, and he ghosts his fingers over the- the-

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” He says, whispers, but in his head it's the loudest thing he can hear.

Fucking netherite. The blade is made out of  _ fucking netherite. _

He squeals, scrambling to his feet and mouth moving faster than his brain.

“Oh my god, this is, holy- netherite! I thought that shit was made up, or at least only available to rich pigs- oh my god if I sold this I’d be so,  _ so _ rich. I’d own a castle! And so many hot, hot ladies would visit me and want to be my girlfriend, oh my god when the boys realize what I have they're going to be  _ so _ jealous-”

The sword honest to god glows.

Tommy doesn't think his day can get any better than this.

“IT GLOWS!” The sword glows! How cool- oh wow, it's so pretty and dark and it looks like the night sky, black and endless and the  _ void- _

A chill runs down his spine; a voice speaks into existence; “I can do a lot more than glow.”

Tommy freezes. His blood stops flowing for a millisecond, his heart stops beating.

He scrambles upright, back ramrod straight and grip white around the sword. Who just spoke? Where'd they come from? How did he not hear anything? He glances down quickly at the sword, then back up to dart around him. Could he bluff with the sword? That might work, he could scare off anyone with his height and a fucking netherite sword-

“To whoever is there,” he starts, and quietly clears his throat when his voice cracks, “I do have a sword,” he continues, voice growing louder and more cocky, more arrogant, “and I know how to use it! So back the fuck off!”

A chuckle, and his heart catches in his throat. Its so close, as if someone is right next to him, speaking in his ear- or in his head?- and the sash wrapped around the sword- red, blood red- whips and dances in invisible wind. The forest is unnervingly still.

Everything stops, for a terrifying moment, and then a bright light, harsh against his eyes, flashes through the trees, creating long shadows and sharp edges. Tommy’s grip releases, and he backs up against a tree, jaw clenched tight, hands in front of himself as if even he knows how to throw a punch.

The white light swirls into a tall figure, with hair and sash twirling around them, moving by some unseen force. Tommy’s eyes are wide, and he's frozen, and he wants to shut his eyes, to move, but he can do nothing except watch as a man forms right in front of him.

What. The fuck.

“I doubt that,” the man smirks, hand on hip, white tusks poking out of his mouth, eyes red, crown slanted on his head, dressed in colors richer than Tommy could ever hope to be, and-

“OHH WHAT THE FUCK!” He screams, loud and forceful, contrasting with every emotion running inside of his head. Fear, anxiety, curiosity, fear again; it all presents itself in the form of loud anger and accusation. “Who are you? What the fuck are you doing in my forest? Back off! I'm the best fighter from my village, you know! I'll beat you to a pulp if you don't explain yourself in the next five seconds!”

The person’s smirk deepens, and he leans back, giving Tommy an up and down glance. “You look like you couldn't lift more than a twig.”

The blond bristles, fear turning into an easy, prideful anger, and he's almost thankful for the jab. Except he's not because this  _ pussy _ just insulted him. “Oh you're going to regret saying that. I am so big! And so strong! And I’m going to make you regret ever crossing my path. So get the fuck out before I pummel you!”

The man lifts a pink- pink? Who the fuck’s hair is pink?- eyebrow, and Tommy wants to punch his stupid face. “Mhm. Sure. You try that.”

Tommy opens his mouth to snark back, maybe throw in another threat, but the man makes a strange face, showing both irksome and resigned acceptance.

Then he disappears, in another flash of light, and Tommy jumps, hits his head on a sturdy branch above him, and promptly collapses to the forest floor.

He sits dazed, vision spinning and fingers floating up to his head, and he lets out a loud groan. “Shit,” he hisses, rubbing his forehead and leaning back against the tree. The tree that just almost bested him-  _ the  _ Tommy Innit. Fuck trees.

His vision clears up, and sure enough, the man is gone, and there's no proof he was ever there besides Tommy’s memory. He scowls, frustrated and still  _ definitely not _ scared, no, he's  _ angry _ that he didn't get a chance to show off his spectacular swordsmanship and make that bastard run right off.

Wait. The sword!

He scrambles up on his knees, hands outstretched and grabbing for the sword. When he grasps it he lets out a sigh, shoulders shrugging. He must've dropped it in the confusion of- whatever the fuck just happened. Kind of a bad move on his part, if he's honest.

A shaky hand grabs the scabbard, and Tommy stands up, taking one last look at the shimmering blade, and the red gem in the center of the hilt. It seems almost familiar.

“I need to get out of this fuckin’ forest.” He mutters, sheathing the sword awkwardly, and then sets off to the village. Fuck this spooky bullshit- he's Tommy Innit and not even a cursed forest can scare such a big man like him.

That doesn't mean he doesn't check over his shoulder every twenty seconds on his way back, though.

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment! they make me go :]
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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